


Bonus Presents

by SmashQ



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21811138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmashQ/pseuds/SmashQ
Summary: Additional fills for Secret Santa 2019 on The Purple Mage Club Discord.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. Blank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For I'm Not Tiny.

A man garbed in hues of violet paced in his quarters, footsteps muffled by the thick opulent rug that covered most of the floor. Fire crackled in its brick home, throwing wavering light into the dark. The warmth chased away the icy chill that threatened to settle inside the home, allowing him to think in relative comfort. Lips pursed, brows furrowed, he contemplated his present problem.

There was no side-stepping the issue. He was...missing time. He had some vague blurs of memory – greens and pinks and gold, always gold – but between those and waking up freezing on the side of the road, there was nothing. He had no wrinkles or grey hair, so he couldn’t have been very old. Maybe in his late twenties or early thirties. He wasn’t thin from malnourishment or fat as some well off fellow. He surely hadn’t had much time to be out of it, yet a not insignificant portion of his life had been robbed. There wasn’t even a childhood or a meaningful memory of becoming an adult.

If that masked stranger hadn’t led him to this old cabin, he would have been in even more dire straits.

As it was, his stomach was full, he was warm, and there was a bed layered in blankets waiting for him.

Yet sleep evaded him.

“Who am I…?” he asked the empty cabin. The question had been on his lips for hours.

Unfortunately, as his guide informed him, the populace of Hyrule was sparse and spread out. He could have been recognized by someone, or no one at all depending on how he lived his life. Hermits were not unheard of, carving out little spaces for themselves and refusing to interact with the outside world more than necessary.

He certainly didn’t _feel_ like a hermit, but his pale skin spoke of more time spent indoors than out.

The cabin door creaked open. A gust of cold air curled around him, then the door shut, and the fire began warming him again.

Bundled in less layers than he thought safe, was his guide.

“Hello, Sheik,” he greeted tiredly with a waning grin. “I thought you wouldn’t be back until morning.”

Sheik unwound a black scarf from his neck. “It is morning,” he said, hanging it over a chair.

The man rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant. I thought it would take you longer to come back. Those winds seem to only get worse the further out you go.”

Sheik nodded, silently walking up beside him. “They didn’t know you,” Sheik said instead. How he managed to sound so clear through the mask over his lower face, the man didn’t know. “But they will keep an eye out for anyone who does.”

The amnesiac sighed. “I supposed that’s all I can ask for.”

Sheik hummed, raised his wrapped, spandex-clad arms closer to the fire. He was silent for a moment, the crackling of wood filling the gap. Then he spoke, carefully and quiet: “Time can be unintentionally cruel. The moments we make may leave a fire in those we meet. But as time marches on, the fire abates, and eventually….goes out. Then all we have left are remnants. Sometimes though, we don’t even have that.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “You enjoy being cryptic, don’t you?”

Sheik’s eyes crinkled, but he said nothing.

The man sighed heavily, as if put upon. “Fine. Be that way.”

“So have you thought of a name?” Sheik asked.

“Yes,” he answered, nodding. “I am...Geist.” He had spent all of maybe an hour thinking on it, not that he was about to admit to it. Geist was perhaps the least awful thing he had come up with.

Sheik closed his eyes for moment, a habit Geist had taken note of. He waited while his guide thought about something or other, then opened his one visible red eye and stared at him. “...Very well then,” he said. “In that case, it’s nice to meet you, Geist.”

The edge of Geist’s lips twitched. “The same to you, Mr….?”

There was a pause. “Sheik.”

“Mr. Sheik. A pleasure.”

There was a muffled snort.

Geist cracked a small smile.

Sheik wasn’t one to laugh boisterously or make jokes. He considered it a victory. A small one, but he would take what he could get.


	2. Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Leimilla.

There were few precious secrets that Zelda could keep as princess. At home, the soldiers and servants watched her in the halls, upholding her to a standard set by all princesses before her. Responsible, reliable, and confident. Outside the castle walls, the public was in awe of her and the pressure to act with poise and confidence weighed around her shoulders with no room to breathe or cranny to lax in.

Some days, she wished her ancestors hadn’t been so clever or proper. Then she might have the chance to run outside and dirty her dress, and muss her hair, and run barefoot through mud and rain like the children did in Castle Town.

In her room, however, she had no duties to uphold or people to impress. She danced to songs she heard echoing from the town or imagined in her head. She posed in front of her mirror, acting as a soldier or a maid or a merchant or a hero from one of the stories she read. She did her best to copy the stances she saw the soldiers perform early in the morning, and imagined herself amongst them, disguised. She would learn to fight and defend her country, earning the respect of the captains through her efforts, not anything her foremothers had done.

Sometimes, when the castle was quiet, and her lessons were over for the day, she would imagine herself as someone else. Someone who climbed mountains, explored forests, and even swam to the bottom of a lake. Someone who knew the best hiding places, and had the best stories to tell. She could sail the seas as easily as some soldiers rode horses.

A fierce and brave warrior princess, with eyes like a Sheikah and hair so dark purple it was almost black.

And of course, as the clever girl she was, the warrior princess knew how to escape the room without anyone being any the wiser.

She waited until the sun set, then with an effort, Zelda changed her looks to match that in her mind. Crimson eyes reflected back at her from the mirror, and she smiled, a rueful thing full of mischief. Perfect. She couldn’t quite get her clothes to change color, but it hardly mattered. She pushed in a stone near her bookcase, and something behind it _clicked_. With little sound, the wall moved forward and to the side. In the dark beyond was a dusty brown cloak, which she wrapped around herself, then she descended the tight, spiral stairwell. The cloak brushed against the walls, losing old dust and collecting new. The stairs took her down, down, down to a long corridor, lit only only with softly glowing runes along on the walls. She couldn’t decipher them; the books in the royal library had shown plenty of languages, even ones that had died out, but these ones were nowhere to be found.

It was a mystery that always nagged at her when she came this way, an itch to know how they worked so that she may create her own some day. The glyphs occupied her, briefly, until she reached the end of the passageway. There, she climbed up the ladder and emerged in a large hollow tree on the outskirts of Castle Town. The trunk was wider than three horses side-by-side, and the carved out center was suitable enough for an adult to come through. For a young princess, it was perfect to sit in, listening to the world outside yet hidden by the tall bushes surrounding the old tree. She could even duck and weave through the protective greenery if she so desired to see more of Hyrule when the moon was full and cast its light on the world.

No walls could hold the warrior princess. No rules would keep her bound.

(At least for a little while, although she wouldn’t admit that out loud.)

“Jeez," a voice scoffed, "took ya long enough.”

Even though she couldn’t see the boy beyond the crack in the tree, the princess still pouted. “I’m sorry, which of us is the one escaping a palace full of guards to come out here?”

“Whatever.” Zelda could _hear_ the eyeroll. “Ya got the goods?”

“Yes, yes,” she replied dismissively. From her dress pocket – sewn in herself! – Zelda withdrew a napkin. Unfolding it, though unseen by the hidden moon, were two cookies. Chocolate chip and freshly baked. She took one then held the napkin out, moving her fingers a bit against the cloth to make noise. A second later her hand was lighter.

“Mmmph. ‘Anks.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Morf morf morf morf.”

“Oh hush, you.”

Zelda resisted laughing, devouring her own cookie, albeit slower than her companion. It wasn’t as gooey as it had been, but it was just as delicious. She was on her last bite when he spoke up again. “So have you thought about what I said?”

Zelda swallowed the last bit of sugary goodness and sighed. “I need more time,” she muttered.

“It’s been a month!”

She pursed her lips together and leaned against the interior of the tree. “A month is not enough time to make a life-changing decision!” she insisted.

“It’s half a day’s walk,” he said, as if such a distance was casually acceptable. And it probably was. He regularly made the trek out here for a cookie and the occasional lecture, after all.

Zelda grimaced. “Yes, half a day, and the castle would go into a panic because the princess has gone missing.” She had played out the scenario dozens of times in her head. Leaving the castle for hours upon hours, only to come back to chaos and worried faces. It wasn’t worthwhile, to say nothing of the resulting punishment.

Her friend sighed, long and drawn out. “Come _on_ , Hilda,” he began to needle. “You always say you want to see the world. I give ya the chance and you ignore it?”

“What I _want_ and what I can _do_ are two different things!” Too late, Zelda realized the words had come out sharper than she intended. A moment of quiet, and she admitted, softer: “...I would if I could though.”

He didn’t reply. Not immediately. Silence reigned, awkward and uncomfortable. The rustling of clothes was the only noise for a while as they stood in the dark of night.

Her friend broke the stillness first. “...Hey.”

“Yes?” she whispered.

“Do you think..” A pause. “Maybe you can come down here earlier tomorrow?”

Zelda frowned and her eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong with our usual time?”

“No, it’s nothing, just… I...” A longer pause.

“Shadow…?”

“I have something to show you,” he said quickly. “Can ya make it?”

Zelda smiled. “Of course. Anything for a friend.”

/-/

The next day after lunch, Hilda the warrior princess met a boy shorter than herself, a black cloak nearly drowning him. He led her to a small grove a ways away, a couple hours’ walk at worst. There in the center, surrounded in all colors imaginable grew a bright white flower, the type she had always described and longed to see. 

Her vision blurred, and she wiped away the welling tears. “Thank you, Shadow,” she said quietly.

The cloak shrugged and said nothing.

The silence was pleasant.


	3. Under Festival Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For magical-game.
> 
> To the tune of Hyrule Town from Minish Cap. :D  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQR6K0Dm-7c  
> (Only covered two cycles of the music.)

(Wiiiin-ter time is here

It is here!)

The festival is here again!

Feels like it’s been

Forever since I last saw

Snowflakes falling from the sky

I wanna try

Some of those weird bear claws!

Oodles of candy

And presents galore!

Hey, what you think, Link,

Just what is in store?

Hey here’s a swea-ter!

It makes you look bet-ter!

Tonight under festival lights!

(Tryyy some of these chocolates,

so good!)

Lamps are strung up ev-ery-where!

Up in the air

Like magical fireflies!

Red and green just like us two!

Yes, me and you!

Oh hey let’s go win a prize!

Wishes and pra-yers

We send up above

Spending some time with

All those that we love!

Sharing and laughter!

The warmth that comes after!

Tonight under festival lights!


	4. Grandma's Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For JeanieChibi.

Link’s grandma was the absolute best grandmother in the entirety of the Great Sea. She knitted him and his sister clothes that were always comfy, and a little loose for growing in. If they scraped a knee or an elbow, she would bandage them up and seal it with a kiss before letting them go again. She baked favorite foods on birthdays, never raised her voice, and always had a story to tell. Her hugs were always tight, and she made the best soup in all the oceans.

Most important of all, however, she was sneaky. If Link or Aryll didn’t want to take medicine, she could use soft words to coax them into taking it. Or she would guilt them into it, because how could they stay sick and let their poor old grandma be worried over them?

She was very good at making people want to get better.

Something Tetra’s pirate crew was learning first hand.

One of the large burly ones, the one with long nose, attempted to get out of the chair he was in, only for the seventy-two-year-old to gently push him back down.

“You won’t get any better by being on your feet,” she instructed, voice creaky but firm. “Rest now.”

“B-But…!”

“No buts! Not get some rest, young man.”

A sigh. “Jus’ do asth she says, Gonzo,” slurred a sleep-ridden Zuko from under a red blanket. It was one of a few he had, the rest acting as a makeshift bed.

“I insist, ma’am!” said the burly man. “I am just fine!” He tried to get up.

The old woman put a palm on his chest, and made him sit back down.

“Oh, now don’t stress yourself. Here, have some of my soup.”

Gonzo opened his mouth, took one look over the elderly woman’s shoulder, then snapped his mouth shut.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said simply, head hung as if he had been defeated. He accepted the soup, and carefully began sipping a spoonful.

Tetra rolled her eyes from where she sat on a small table. She hopped off it, hands on hips, gaze sliding around the now rather cozy first floor of Link’s house where most of her crew was strewn about in various stages of health and pitiful moaning.

The only one missing was Niko, and that was because he had been held up watching the treasure room and supplies while everyone else was up top battening down the hatches through a sudden storm.

Not that he would have improved the situation. He wasn’t exactly a swabbie for nothing. 

Tetra herself had head below deck at some point to ensure the valuable, brittle map she had pinned down in her room hadn’t torn from the waves tossing her ship about, and had been forced to remain there when she found the door that led to the main deck had been blocked from the other side.

She loved her crew, but by the gods could they be dumb.

Tetra leaned back against the wooden wall, arms crossed. “Thank you for this,” she said. "We don't usually stay in small villages, but Windfall was too far a journey from where we were." Went unsaid, but very well silently acknowledged, was that Link's family was here. Who was she to deny a reunion, especially when it was beneficial to everyone involved?

Link’s grandmother waved a hand, and went about ladling another bowl of yellow soup, the delicious smell wafting through the tiny house. “It’s no trouble at all," she replied. "I used to do the same for some of the villagers, too, when they were sick. Why, one time Sturgeon got so ill he couldn’t read for more than an hour before his headache got the better of him!” Mako gasped from his place by the lump of blankets. “He refused to have any books read to him, so I went over with some of my soup, and by the morning after he was right as rain!” She gave the bowl and another spoon to Nudge, who nodded respectfully.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, and carefully began spooning up mouthfuls of food.

A smile twitched, the only outward reaction Tetra gave that she was trying not to smile too hard at the woman. It was no wonder Link was so eager to help everybody he met if she was like this.

“’m dyin’, Miss Tetra,” came the definitely-not-a-whine.

“No, you’re not, Gonzo.”

“It will be alright,” said the old woman. “I have been told on multiple occasions that colds are the worst. The soup is supposed to be soothing, but if it’s not helping you then perhaps medicine will...although I’m told that is even worse...”

Gonzo suddenly straightened up. “Oh, n-no no! That’s alright, ma’am, there’s no need!”

“Oh, that’s alright,” the old woman insisted, carefully opening up a cabinet. “I’m fairly sure I have some around here somewhere.”

“No, really!” Gonzo stressed. Senza buried his face in the green, fuzzy blanket he had been given, shoulders shaking. “This soup is working wonders already! I can feel it!” Gonzo flexed his arms, as if that was proof enough of his recovery.

The old lady turned back around, hands clasped together. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Well if that’s the case then you can help me with your crew.”

“Wha…?”

The serene smile she had never wavered. Nudge coughed to the side. “There are four more of your friends who are not feeling well, and they need their rest. You can help me chop up ingredients for the next batch of soup.”

“Yea’, Gonzo,” mumbled Zuko from under his blanket. “Make us more soup.”

“N-now wait a minute…!”

Tetra closed her eyes, letting herself relax and grin.

Her crew would be just fine.


End file.
